


Cottonmouth Fever

by coldwarqueer



Series: Snakes in the Grass [1]
Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: And treated like a piece of meat, Blood Drinking, Consensual Sex, Drunk Sex, Gore, High Sex, In which America is never referred to by name, M/M, Vampires, Wall Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-21
Updated: 2014-04-21
Packaged: 2018-01-20 06:03:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,302
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1499378
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/coldwarqueer/pseuds/coldwarqueer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>And then the little lamb had the gall to look up at him, his eyes dark with lust and drink, and say, “Is that all?”</i>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>Vampire au</p>
            </blockquote>





	Cottonmouth Fever

A week without feeding felt like cottonmouth.

It tasted dry, like he hadn’t had a drop to drink in days. Partly true.

Ivan watched the sun retreat behind a curtain, his feline eyes waiting for the last rays to escape to another part of the world. When it was safe for him to emerge he stretched like a monster after slumber. A very hungry monster.

The only next question to be had was what, or who, he was in the mood for.

Ivan went window shopping for his meal. He lurked behind the counters of bars, ducking behind crowds and murky corners to survey the options. No one piece of meat clicked, yet.

About to give up and buy a cheap hooker no one would miss, Ivan slunk through the crowds. He felt him before he saw him, arms wrapped around his waist from behind and cautious hips grinding to the DJ. He turned and saw him, golden boy high on the euphoria of dance and music. Ivan could smell the taste of alcohol on him.

It wasn’t every day the slab of meat walked right up to him to dance.

He skipped the dancing. His golden boy was better looking shoved up against a brick wall, hot lips seeking out relief. Ivan tasted vodka and drugs. He scraped his fangs against the poor boy’s throat, feeling him shiver. The intoxicated ones always tasted so sweet.

“You- you have a condom right?” the golden boy stammered out, hasty and breathless, kissing Ivan in between words. A soft, needy gasp left him as Ivan kneaded his loins, mewling as he knocked his head against the wall behind him.

“Why would I need something like that?” Ivan stuffed his fingers into the golden boy’s mouth, dark eyes slipping half shut to watch the poor piece of meat close his wet lips around the fingers of the hand that sealed his fate. There were no complaints, no urging for protection. Ivan had a feeling this wasn’t the poor boy’s first back alley fuck.

It would be his last.

“I have- I have lube,” he gasped out. The poor thing was too aroused to talk. Ivan’s hand wrapped around his precious throat and pressed in. Watching his adam’s apple bob and his eyes slip shut as the breath left him made Ivan’s heart roar. Or it would, if he had one.

Instead of asking which pocket, Ivan slid his hands into every one, until he found the single use packet. So the piece of meat had come prepared. He loved it when meals made their own feast easier.

A throaty purr pushed out of Ivan’s chest, “Begs the question where the condom went.” He didn’t get an answer; the golden boy took his face in his hands and kissed him hard and sloppy. Ivan’s fangs dropped down, eyes dilating as he tasted blood on the boy’s tongue. The poor thing was either too high to notice or didn’t care.

Ivan pushed a hand through the poor boy’s hair as he kissed him, teeth biting at tender lips. His hair was like spun gold. His lips were salty- from a drink or sweat was left a mystery. Ivan took solace in the fact he was the last person to ever touch this golden boy; a lamb leading itself to the slaughter.

The blood he drew on the poor thing’s throat in his preliminary bites just made him hotter. One pair of pants hanging off one ankle and another pair of pants barely past the hips. Ivan groaned, red hot flesh sinking past the desperate, wet lips begging for something between them. His thick fingers planted in the salacious beauty’s hair, ripping out the foundry as he rolled his hips forward. He heard gargling and pushed the golden boy off, letting him suck in the last vestiges of breath he’d ever have.

And then the little lamb had the gall to look up at him, his eyes dark with lust and drink, and say, “Is that all?”

He dragged him by the hair, up against the brick wall and pressing his body flush against him, feeling the heat and the sweat. Ivan passed his fangs over the boy’s ear, whispering hot, nasty things into the skin. The golden boy spread his legs for him, hooking one up over Ivan’s hip, hoisting himself up to rest between Ivan and the wall.

Ivan fumbled for the lube. He was so torn between fucking him and rubbing one out first and tearing the poor thing’s throat out right then and there. He slathered the lube over his cock, pushing the boy’s hot body up, thighs apart, slowly adjusting for the tip, and then plunged in.

The golden boy was like molten lava. He was hot and molded right to him. Ivan knew for sure now that this wasn’t his first back alley fuck. It didn’t bother him, it made it that much easier to rub him raw against the brick wall behind him.

The little gasp that graced Ivan’s ears as he wrapped a big hand around the meat’s throat made him tremble with power. The life of a petty, lowly bitch in his hands always made Ivan feel like a king among men.

The little lamb’s jacket was rolling over his shoulders with every jerking thrust, brick dust gathering at the back of his head where it banged every time Ivan forced his way in. He was wearing nothing but a wifebeater below the hot, fur lined jacket, dog tags jumping on his chest with every push.

His fingers looked so small in comparison. They thumbed through Ivan’s hair, pulling him down, eyes like a desperate dog. “My mouth is dry, fill it with your fucking spit.”

Ivan was more interested in areas below. He satisfied the golden boy’s need to be kissed, like he knew so many other men had before him, and immediately took his trip south. The skin of his precious meal’s neck was tainted by his scent. Below it lurked the thrum of his heart; the real prize.

He put one hand on the wall behind the piece of meat, eyes slitting down to focus on the rise and fall of his half naked chest. The dog tags jingled with every thrust, bouncing back and forth. It was mesmerizing. The little noises that came through parted lips, tongue rolling out with one push after the other.

He planted his lips on the golden boy’s throat, licking and biting in one localized spot; the kill spot.

Ivan felt like a chunk of the wall would be gone. His breathing was hard. He felt the meat grip him tight by the thighs, watched the light go bright in his eyes as he thrust in at just the right angle. Ivan sucked in a breath, feeling the hot wail of orgasm overturn him. He stifled the hot roar about to escape him by using his precious meal as a pillow to bite.

When the floodgates opened, there was nothing to stop him from ripping away the poor thing’s flesh, leaving him hot and hungry. He slobbered over the red hole he’d made, feasting upon the fountain that gushed forth.

The waterfall that sated his thirst ran dry and he dropped the body, seeping blood and drool and cum. Ivan’s face was red. He licked his wet lips, tongue wiping over his fangs to scrub them clean of every last drop.

He pressed a boot to the broken, golden boy with the dirty eyes, hard against his chest to force out a breathless cough. “If you survive this, you can look me up. Don’t get too attached to the sun.”

Stomach filled, Ivan licked his fingers and pulled up his pants, leaving the little lamb alone in the dark alley.


End file.
